


Airbus320 for Dublin

by pascaler23



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Meet-Cute, Plane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 15:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pascaler23/pseuds/pascaler23
Summary: Sherlock hates flying in economic class. Sherlock hates people. Sherlock hates small talks. Surely all of those things together would kill him.Until the blond in the ridiculous jumper sits down next to him.





	Airbus320 for Dublin

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back after 10 months! Life has been crazy.
> 
> This is an OS I wrote for another fandom, that I decided to rewrite for Johnlock. I hope you'll enjoy! :)

Sherlock sighed with exasperation, typing with a furious finger on the screen in front of him, which froze in less than 30 seconds. Next to him in the alley, people were squeezed against each other, fighting over the space in the compartments above the seats containing the luggage and not letting room for people to pass, creating a mass of complaining passengers. Most of them were impatient businessman or families with annoying small children. Everything Sherlock hated. A teenager passed next to him and hit his arms with his bag, making Sherlock curse and remove his elbow from the armrest.

Normally, Mycroft would always buy first class ticket when he’d take a plane. Sherlock never cared for it before, but now he realized how he never rightly valued personal space before. But this time Mycroft had booked his flight too late and all that was left were the seats in the sardine section, as Sherlock liked to call it. And to make it worst, he wasn’t even on the window side. He was just about to check if the damn screen work again when a man stopped next to him.

“I’m sorry mate, do you mind if I pass?”

 Sherlock looked up, surprised. The man who had talk was different from all the other persons in the plane. He was alone, but clearly not a businessman. His hair was’nt perfectly brushed and he wasn’t stinking cologne. He was wearing the most ridiculous jumper Sherlock had ever seen in his life.

The latter then realized he’d been staring a bit too long, and without a word, he glued himself as much as he could to his seat to make enough room to pass in front of him. The jumper man made his way to his seat. He sat down, installing his bag on the floor before turning to look at Sherlock with a flirty smile on his face.

 “Those seats just get tighter every time, aren’t they?”

 And this lame attempt at a conversation brought Sherlock back on Earth. He gave the man a ‘don’t try to have a small talk with me’ look. The blond seemed to understand, a bit taken aback but not insulted. He repositioned himself in his seat and started to sort out the things in his bag.

 To amplify the ‘you’re annoying’ message Sherlock was trying to emit, he took one of the books he brought with him and started to read it. But from the corner of his eye, he noticed the man looking at the cover of the chemistry book and smile in recognition of the title.

_ Well at least he does have taste in something, if it’s not clothing,_ Sherlock thought.

 During the next hours that passed, the jumper man fell asleep, his head leaning on the wall next to the window, and Sherlock couldn’t help himself but steal a quick peek from time to time, against his will. Why was he looking? He continued reading his book until an air hostess arrived in front of him.

 “What would you prefer to eat, sir, chicken or pasta?”

  _Eww. Plane chicken. No._

 “I’ll have the pasta,” he answered, putting his book away.

 As he was being served, the woman asked him, gesturing at the sleeping man:

 “Do you think he’d like to eat?”

 Sherlock shrugged, not really caring. But something inside of him told him the man surely wouldn’t like to miss a meal. The flight was long. Gently, he shook the blond’s shoulder, who woke up with a grunt.

 “What?” he said, groggy, rubbing his eyes. His hair was a bit messy, and Sherlock couldn’t help but find it kind of adorable.

 What the hell was wrong with him?

 “Time to eat,” he answered, letting go immediately.

 “Chicken or pasta, sir?” the hostess asked the jumper man.

 “Oh, I’ll have the pasta, please.”

 “And what can I get you for beverage?”

 “Tea,” the two passengers answered in unison, shooting a weird look to each other for a second.

 “That’ll be 3$ each for the drink,” the woman informed them.

 Just as Sherlock was reaching out for his wallet, the other man put a gentle hand over his forearm, stopping his movement.

 “It’s on me,” he said with a corner smile. “I want to thank you for waking me up.”

 Sherlock thought that was one hell of a big thank you for a shake of the shoulder, but then Sherlock didn’t like to question stupid people’s ideas if they got him free tea so he shut up.

 Once they both had their food and tea, the blond shot another glance at him.

 “So, what are you going to do in Dublin? You don’t look like a tourist.”

 Sherlock did everything he could not to sigh in front of the man, mentally blaming himself for being nice and waking him up. _This_ was what happened when he started being nice. People would like him and start talking.

 “I’m working on a case. My brother sent me. He works for the government.”

 The man looked curious. “Oh. Your girlfriend doesn’t mind you going away for work?”

 Sherlock didn’t even try not to raise his eyebrows at this oh so obvious question. God, this man didn’t know anything about subtlety.

 “I consider myself married to my work.”

 The blond seemed satisfied enough with this answer, even if he didn’t let it show.

 “So what work do you then? Police? Agent? Detective?,” he answered, crossing his legs and putting his hands on his knee, the left hand on top.

 A very ringless hand, Sherlock noticed, starting to get amused by the bad but charming flirting. It wasn’t annoying yet. More flattering, actually.

 “Consulting detective. Only one in the world.”

 The other man’s face lighted up in interest. “Consulting? So you don’t only get private clients?”

 “I do. Nobody else has the police as a client.”

 The blond had to give him the point. “So no time for sightseeing I guess? Lots of work. ”

 “No, no sightseeing. I imagine that’s what you are going to do there.”

 “No, sadly. I wish I had the time. I’m coming for a medicine convention that will last the whole week, then I have to go back home to work. I only have one day off at the end and I’m afraid I’ll be too tired for sight seeing.”

 “You’re a doctor?” Sherlock answered, for once earnestly interested.

 “Army doctor. Well, was. Pretty much just a doctor now, I guess.”

 “Yes. Your leg. You used to have a limp.”

 The blond shot him a mesmerized look.

 “How did you know?”

 “Clear as water. It’s so obvious I can’t believe you don’t know you’re doing it.” Sherlock waited to see if the man would realize, but he stayed silent. “You still compensate with your other leg when you walk even though you’re healed. You kept the old reflex.”

The man was shaking his head with an unbelieving smile. “Fucking fantastic!” He extended his hand. “John Watson.

 Sherlock looked at it, then shook it. “Sherlock Holmes.”

 They continued talking as they ate, Sherlock telling him about his job as consulting detective, and that korean sword technique he was currently learning. John seemed fascinated by his words, even though sometimes surprised, asking him questions with curiosity, his blue eyes, the bluest eyes Sherlock had ever seen, sparkling with interest. Just like himself, Sherlock thought, it must do John good to speak with someone who finally had culture and intelligence, a spirit. The blond surprisingly knew quite a lot about chemistry, biology and fighting, even as if not as much as Sherlock. It was better than the average homo sapiens, so Sherlock wouldn’t complain. He had misjudged him, he had to admit to himself, irritated to have been wrong. And John’s voice was strangely pleasant to hear, low and reassuring. And Sherlock just felt sort of… drawn by him. He blamed his biology for it. Damn pheromones and sexual desire. He couldn’t control it. He was charmed. By the sweet melody of his laugh, the shade of his eyelashes on his cheeks, his his bright smile, the playful and amused way his mouth curved when they were having a debate and neither of them would let go just because they wouldn’t cave, even if they knew the other one was right. Time was passing surprisingly rapidly. Normally, Sherlock would have to spend the whole time of the flight in his mind palace to not go crazy from being restricted in a seat for hours. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a conversation that wasn’t necessary, but just for fun. This John  actually was interesting, actually made him laugh.

 And it did Sherlock good, even if he refused to admit it.

 Before neither of them knew it, it was time to fasten their seatbelts and to lock the eating trays in the upright position, everybody getting ready for the landing. Sherlock realized it would soon be over, and after having cleared his throat (which he didn’t understand why he needed to do), he asked John where he was going to be staying.

 “Oh, I’ll be in a hotel in the center of Dublin, just a couple of minutes of tube away from the convention. Perfect for me. What about you?”

 “My brother has arranged a car to wait for me at the airport. I imagine it’ll take me to some fancy hotel.”

 John nodded, head tilted to the side. “Having a brother working for the government isn’t all bad it seems.”

 

They didn’t really speak anymore for the rest of the flight, nor did they while passing the customs, even though they stayed next to each other in all the lines. After having taken the luggage, just in front of the exit door of the airport, one of Sherlock’s suitcases (what in the name of heaven did the man bring with him to have three suitcases for a week of travel, John would never know) fell to the floor, and he practically jumped to pick it up. While taking the handle, his fingers brushed Sherlock’s, and the both of them let go of the suitcase immediately, like having received an electric shock.

Sherlock looked down at him, eyes wide with a shallow breath, and John kept his gaze riveted to his. Neither of them said a thing. John took hold of the luggage, bringing it closer and taking Sherlock’s hand in his, gently positioning the fingers around the handle. He still hadn’t quit his eyes, the shadow of a smile forming on his lips.

 “What if we took that car your brother sent and went to a restaurant?”

And even though his posture and voice and face showed assurance, he still held his breath for the answer. This man, Sherlock Holmes, was unlike anybody he ever met, was actually exciting and interesting, and he really hope their relationship would continue further than this.

 The other man smiled, happiness shining in his eyes shine and his cheeks becoming a lovely shade of pink. “I know a good place.”

 “Perfect” John answered. Grabbing Sherlock’s collar, he got up on his tip toes and kissed him chastely on the lips. The latter smiled into the kiss, happiness swelling in his chest and he grabbed John’s waist shyly, bringing him closer. John deepened the kiss, and he instantly fell in love with Sherlock’s mouth’s tea flavour.

Could this man be any more perfect?

 “Let me treat you to dinner,” John said against his lips.

“No,” Sherlock answered with a grin. “My brother will pay.”

 John kissed him one last time with a laugh before taking one of Sherlock’s suitcase, the two of them leaving the airport smiling at each other, walking pass the door and breathing the fresh Irish air.

 

Hopefully they’d be seated together on the flight back too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! :D Please leave feedback, I'd love to read it!
> 
> Here's my tumblr: https://canoe23.tumblr.com


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